She suddenly felt sick to her stomach, but before she could sit down, she heard a knock at her door. She hurried over to open it, expecting to find Imulah.
Standing in the hallway were the same two goons who had escorted her out to the Sea Wolf earlier that night.
“Get dressed,” said a familiar voice. Imulah was there after all, standing in the shadows, his arms hidden in the long sleeves of his brown robe.
“Where am I going?” she asked.
The scribe avoided the question. “Get dressed, and hurry.”
“Not until I know where I’m going.”
Imulah let out a sigh and nodded at one of the soldiers. He yanked on her arm, and instead of resisting, she let him pull her knee into his groin.
The second guy threw a punch that grazed her cheek as she moved her head sideways. Ducking back into the room, she grabbed the lamp off the bedside table. When he came at her again, she smashed him in the face, shattering the glass bulb in his eye.
His friend came at Magnolia fast, but she was nimbler and sidestepped, tripping him as he lunged. He fell on his face and slid across the floor.
Pivoting, she kicked him in the jaw. The ball of her bare foot hurt from the impact, but the teeth that rattled across the floor told her he had gotten the worst of it.
Before he could get up, she went down on one knee and slammed her elbow into the base of his skull, cracking his nose against the floor. Then she whipped her arm around his neck, grabbed the wrist with the other hand, and jerked sideways.
A satisfying crack filled the room.
“NO!” yelled the other goon.
Magnolia pulled the knife from the dead Cazador’s belt and turned to the second guy, who had managed to stand, one hand to his injured eye, and was staring at his dead friend.
She threw the blade, hitting him with a thump square in his muscular chest. He sank to his knees and slumped over on his side.
Imulah took off as Magnolia pulled the knife out of the dying guard.
“Get back here you little prick!” she shouted.
As he reached to open the door at the end of the next hallway, the knife hit him in the hand, pinning it to the doorjamb. He let out a scream, which Magnolia ended with a swift elbow up under the chin. He slumped down, and she yanked the knife out, freeing his hand before his weight could rip the flesh.
Imulah gripped his bleeding hand, whimpering in pain.
She slapped him across his face to get his attention. “Listen very carefully,” she said, “because I’m only going to ask you this once.”
He held her stare, lips quivering.
“Where are those boats going?” she asked.
“I…”
She slapped him again, cracking his lower lip. He whimpered again, and she held the blade to his throat.
“Tell me.”
“The sky gods,” Imulah choked out. “El Pulpo thinks they are coming here.” Magnolia pulled the knife back from his throat, letting him breathe.
“How does he know this?”
Imulah clutched his injured hand. “I don’t know, I swear. I just know he knows.”
“Get up,” she said.
Imulah pushed his back against the wall and got to his feet, shaking.
“I know you guys have radio equipment,” she said. “And you’re going to show me where it is.”
He shook his head. “I don’t have access.”
For some reason, she believed him. The scribe was a coward, but he wasn’t a liar. Lucky for him she had another idea. All she had to do was get to the bottom floor of the tower.
TWENTY
The next morning, the ship’s mess hall was packed full of Cazador soldiers eating like starved animals. X sat by himself at one of the long tables, surprised they hadn’t tossed him back into his cramped quarters.
He had proved himself in the sky arena and again in the wastes, but that didn’t mean all the warriors had accepted him. Most of them hadn’t fought by his side out there, and only two of those who had were still breathing.
Screw all these cannibalistic assholes, he thought as he took a bite of bread so hard it nearly cracked a tooth. He dipped the crust into the slop on his plate, trying to soften it while avoiding the flaky white meat that may or may not be fish.
The feeling of being watched didn’t bother him, and he didn’t need to look up to know that several of the hardened men and a few of the women were staring at him as they would an enemy.
X didn’t care. All that mattered was filling his belly after a decent night of sleep. His body still ached from head to toe, but at least he wasn’t dog tired.
Footfalls sounded, and someone who smelled like sweat sat in front of X. He finally looked up to see a woman smiling at him. Sort of. He couldn’t really tell whether she was grinning or frowning at him.
Most of her teeth were missing, bruises covered her neck, and she had one arm in a sling.
She was bigger than most of the men, and no youngster. On the left side, she had gray hair almost to her shoulders, but the right side of her head was clean-shaven, with the tattoo of a barracuda inked into her scalp.
“Hola,” she said.
The voice sounded oddly familiar.
“Uh… hi,” X replied.
Rhino walked over from the line of soldiers waiting for food. He set his plate down and sat beside the woman.
“Want to tell me why this lady is staring at me?” X asked.
Rhino glanced over at her and gave X a puzzled look. “Wendig?”
“No, this lady,” X said.
Rhino laughed. “This lady is Wendig.”
“Oh, shit,” X said, nearly choking on the moistened bread in his mouth. He had never seen Wendig’s face, and the breathing apparatus had always distorted her voice.
Wendig’s grin turned to a frown when Rhino explained what X had just asked. Then she gave a deep cackle and reached across the table with her good hand to clap X on his shoulder.
The gesture attracted the attention of the soldiers at the next table. Two of them walked over and said something to Rhino and Wendig. Judging by their eyes and gestures, he had a feeling they were talking about him.
Maybe going to his quarters would have been a better idea.
He had just taken another bite of bread when a hand reached in from behind him and yanked his plate away. X stood and faced three more Cazadores, all of them fair skinned and covered in tattoos.
“You don’t belong here,” said the middle guy, his blue eyes glaring at X. “I don’t care how many of the deformed ones you killed. You’re not one of us.”
“Not going to argue with you there, pal. I didn’t ask to come on this shit journey and fight with you.” X held out his hand. “Now, I would appreciate it if you gave me my food back.”
Rhino watched from his seat. Wendig also remained sitting.
“Not going to ask you again,” X said.
The man looked at his buddies and then slowly held the plate out. Right before it was within X’s reach, he tilted it, letting the slop fall onto the deck.
X sighed as Wendig and Rhino both stood. This wasn’t going to end well.
“Back off, Sergeant Lurch,” Rhino said.
The guy holding the plate directed his gaze at the lieutenant. “Rhino, me and the other boys don’t like how you’ve warmed up to this skydiver.”
“Hell Diver,” X corrected.
Lurch cleared his throat and then spat a yellow glob on the plate.
“Here you go, Hell Diver,” he said, handing it back to X.
A flash of motion came from the right. It happened so fast, X almost didn’t see Wendig swinging her metal plate. She smashed it over Lurch’s bald crown.
Slop dripped down his face, and he reached up and wiped away the muck from his eyes. Then he touched the bloody welt on the top of his head.